


Resolve

by Hallianna



Series: The Detective and the Vault Dweller [6]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: And hence starts the burn, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 10:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10695483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna
Summary: It all comes to a head.





	Resolve

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the parts in order; the story might not make sense otherwise.

_“I do,” she said, smoothing one of his lapels.  “Why do you think I fell so hard for you in the first place?_ ” **  
**

He chuckled but said nothing in response.  Fighting against the pit growing in her stomach, Nina leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his.  “So….what do we do?”  It was an honest question, probably said a bit more breathlessly than she liked.  But it was out there now.

“Now that’s a question I don’t have a good answer for,” he said quietly, taking her hand in his.  “I gotta admit, Nina, my head’s spinning a little.”  He pulled back from her and stared down, bright yellow eyes glowing in the semi-dark of the room.  “I know how you make me feel.  I don’t understand it because I’ve never -” And he sighed, his grip on her hand tightening.  “I’ve never felt anything like this.”  He laughed, a derisive sound that drew pangs of sympathy from her.  “But I also don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you.”

And there it was.  The hardboiled detective’s heart, as bright as the neon sign he kept outside of his office, stitched on his sleeve.  For her eyes only.  “You sweet talker,” was all she could manage, her thoughts a jumble of words and feelings and other things she couldn’t give voice to.

“I know we both need to figure this out. I know we both need time.”  She flushed at the thought of her behavior minutes ago, her cooling need still running its fingernails down her spine.  “But can I confess something? It’s completely selfish.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”  His hand came up to trace her jaw.  

“I really wanted to take you on that couch.”

Nick stared at her, agog for a moment, and then barked out a rusty laugh full of surprise and delight.  She joined him in laughing, her voice bright with the kind of joy that only occurs when you’re with someone you truly care about. Nick didn’t think about that part until much, much later, when he was alone and patrolling a nearby settlement, trusty Dogmeat at his heels and Nina asleep, safe, in a nearby structure.

He replayed her words, over and over again, in his brain, an endless loop that kept him coming back to, “What if?”  He felt like the ground was constantly moving beneath his feet, some kind of freak earthquake.  Only instead of shifting tectonic plates, it was all caused by her.  

Christ, he sounded like a bad movie.

But all this uncertainty had to mean something, right?  As sure as he’d been that he was just another bot, doing what little good he could in a wasted land with death and disease around every corner, Nina believed otherwise.  And was convincing him to believe it, too.  Her good nature drew others to her like a beacon on a hill, and he’d found he had little to hold him back, either.  And she believed in _**him**_ , that he could be more than some scrap metal and a worn trenchcoat.

She made him believe it, too.  It was the kindest, and cruelest, thing she’d ever done.

The world needed a few more Ninas in it.

But when it was just the two of them, she showed him a whole new side of herself.  More passionate.  More...wanting.  She freely offered her heart - and other things - to him, and all the doubt flooded back in. _Notworthynotworthynotworthy_ pounded a staccato rhythm inside his skull, and if his heart could beat, it would surely race at the thought of her in that sparkly, low-cut dress, pressed up against him on a dark dance floor.

Real Nick would have taken one look and been a goner, that was for sure.

Nina’s flirting didn’t surprise him, not really.  She was a little bit of a flirt in general, and teasing her back when she pushed on his hat or said something a little scandalous to him was just….

Was just what?  He hadn’t even stopped to think about it, simply teased and flirted back.  Just like he hadn’t stopped tonight to think about what he was doing tonight, not until he’d wound her good and tight and then pulled away, like some schmuck.  Some part of him understood that kind of want, and had certainly acted on it tonight.  But even as she was staring at him, color high in her cheeks, eyes bright with desire, he’d worried.

But he’d met her halfway, right?  Leaned down as she pushed herself up on her toes to kiss him.  And he’d kissed her back.  And the doubt had been washed away for a moment, and he’d just let himself feel.  Feel her and her body and her mouth, everything warm and incredibly alive against him.  So he let himself believe, if only for a moment, that he was something other than a metal body.

Months of teasing, of flirting, and he had the smartest, toughest, prettiest gal in the Commonwealth in his arms, pushing him into a wall, begging for him.  So he caved, unwilling to disappoint her one more time, wanting to feel.

Wanting to be _needed_.

He’d claimed her mouth with his lips, her body with his hands.  In that moment, he took something vital, something human, from her, and when he'd looked down, seen his hands on her - one whole, one nothing but a metal frame - he remembered who he was.  What he was.

And the doubt rushed back in.  He’d pushed her away and even though she was good at concealing it, there was sadness and rejection on her face.  It broke his fucking heart.  

 _Nick, you sad sack of shit_.

Nick stopped beside a radiation-gnarled tree, leaned against it, and pulled the last cigarette from his pocket.  He held it up, squinting at it in the hazy moonlight.  He didn’t need to smoke, it was just an old habit that kicked around somewhere in his brain.  A leftover from Real Nick.

I _t’s who you are, Nick.  Maybe you were all tangled together before, maybe you absorbed old Nick’s personality.  But the how doesn’t matter, you know that, right?  In the end, you are Nick, and I know there’s only one of those in the world.  And I’m grateful just to have you._

God, it was like he could hear her, clear as day, in his head.  Nick clamped the cigarette between his lips, lit it, and leaned back to smoke.

_What the hell am I going to do now?_

 

 

* * *

 

_Nick walked back to his apartment slowly.  He could feign ignorance and say it was from his still injured shoulder, but he knew better.  What Ginny had told him in a rush over five minutes had left him stunned.  He’d have called bullshit, but from the looks of her, and her hidey-hole, she was definitely on the run from something._

_Some criminals had a heart, and Ginny had revealed hers.  Turned out stolen kids were too much, even for a hardass like her._

_The why and how and where she hadn’t known, but she had proof enough that something sinister was happening under all their noses.  And she supposedly knew who the culprits were, but wouldn’t tell him, even though he tried to bribe her.  He knew better than to threaten her outright, but he doubted even that would have made a difference.  He may have walked away - or limped away - with another bullet hole to add to his collection._

_Head foggy and a sense of dread growing ever larger in the pit of his stomach, Valentine tromped back to his dark apartment.  Once his coat and shoes were on the floor and he had a glass of something amber and potent in hand, he considered his next move from his worn armchair._

_There was no easy path forward.  Ultimately, finding the kid meant going up against the nastiest set of assholes on the entire coast.  And he was just a professional nosey son of a bitch who got paid - and sometimes shot - retrieving stolen jewelry and tracking down adulterers._

_How was he supposed to take on an entire collective, one with more money and manpower than he’d ever have access to?_

_And what should he tell her?  The truth might wreck her.  But he also owed her, more than he’d ever be able to repay._

_Finding her son might be a start._

 

 

* * *

 

Nina leaned away from the battered typewriter.  Safely ensconced in the house she’d claimed months ago, she watched the rad storm from newly-glassed windows.  Where Sturges had found whole panes of glass to outfit not just her house, but many of the rebuilt ones in Sanctuary, she had no fucking clue.  But it made her respect the man’s skill that much more.  She had come back from the chase for the Courser to see Sturges standing tall and proud outside her home, just waiting to show her his new improvements.

And now he was working on building the machine that might get her into the Institute.

She re-examined the last line of her most recent chapter again.  The sounds of thunder, acid rain, and Dogmeat snoring in the next room filled her surroundings.  A mug of passable coffee sat at her left elbow.  It was a chance to be content, to be quiet.  

The novel was supposed to be a way for her to escape. A chance to dump all her confusion and anger and hurt onto some pages and weave at least a passable story.  Not that she’d ever planned on showing it to anyone - what kind of market was there in a post-apocalyptic world?  But now she and the book were veering into epistolary territory.

She cringed and ripped the page out of the typewriter.  She needed another set of eyes, a fresh opinion.

Her gaze flicked back to the window, seeking out pinpricks of light in the yellow haze of the storm.  The house across from hers, where Piper and Curie (in her new synth body) had take up residence, glowed gently.  Being a news writer, Piper kept weird hours, usually banging away on a nicer version of her own typewriter.  She could duck between the sizzling drops of acid rain and ask her friend’s opinion.

She could.  But she wouldn’t, because she knew the only person she trusted to read her writing was houses away, keeping watch through the storm.

She and Nick hadn’t avoided each other since that night in The Third Rail.  The exact opposite, actually.  They’d ended the night with an agreement - Nick needed time, and she’d happily give it to him.  But they both agreed that at some point in the future (the near future, she hoped), they’d have a heart to heart.  

Because she still wanted him.  Now more, if that was possible.  Sleep was hard to come by most nights, but it had been even more difficult lately, as her fevered mind dreamed up scenarios that would make Cait blush.

Blush might be too strong a word.  This was Cait she was referring to, after all.

Actually, Nina figured if anyone actually knew what she dreamed of most nights, they’d think her crazy.  Even the most sympathetic synth supporters probably didn’t imagine what she could.

The humidity from the storm washed the house a thin veneer of sticky, ionized air.  New glass windows and a solid metal door couldn’t stop it when the walls had been thinned out by the bomb’s fallout so long ago.  Nina closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, feeling the dampness gather at the base of her neck as she pressed her head against the top of the old wooden chair.

It wasn’t hard to recall the feel of Nick’s mouth against hers, his hands gripping her waist.  She tried to transport herself to that night in the club; her mind, however, decided to veer off-road.  

_His tie would be the first thing to hit the floor._

_It was the gateway to all other parts of him, and it needed to go.  She’d pull him into her with that raggedy bit of fabric, winding it tight around her wrist to the point where she could feel the blood pumping through her fingers.  Knocking her forehead against his chin, she’d run her lips over the rough edge of his jaw, worrying the hole there with her lips, as she used her hands to get the tie undone and off.  It would land in some faraway corner, but neither of them would care._

_Slowly, maybe even hesitantly, his hands would rest on her hips.  But that would make her only press harder against him, pushing her breasts into his chest.  That rumble of his, wordless but instantly conveying emotion, would send sparks shooting through her._

_“Doll,” he’d say, hands gripping her a little harder.  “Are you sure-”_

_She’d huff against his neck, then pull back to growl, “Ask me that one more time, Valentine, and you’ll wind up on the floor.”_

_“I don’t know, seems a little hard to me.”_

_“Smartass.”  And she’d laugh, hearing the double entendre he likely didn’t intend._

_And Nick would lean into her even more, fingers digging into her hips now, yellow eyes so intent on hers she felt them like another touch.  “You want this.”  It wasn’t a question.  “You want….me.”_

_“Yes.”  It was the truest, most heartfelt thing she’d ever said, next to “I do” and “God, isn’t our baby just perfect?”.  She hadn’t felt such a surge of emotion since those days, but this was hot and needy and it made her boil._

_“Then I’ll stop asking if you’re sure.”_

_His weren’t human lips.  His wasn’t a human tongue.  The hands, the body….none of it was human.  But they were HIS and that was all that mattered._

A soft moan slipped from her lips and Nina sank even further into the chair.  Her palms, pressed into her bare thighs, were damp with sweat.  A restlessness coiled in her belly, hot and twisting, spiraling down to her core.  

Just a few nights ago, her desire had been stoked and she’d been left empty, wanting.  She didn’t blame Nick one bit for what happened; but when she’d returned to the nearby settlement, she found herself too tired to take the edge off.

But now?  Now, she was alone, sweating, sticking to the chair, the feel of her skin under her palm.

She didn’t command her hand to move, but it did, inching up her leg to caress her stomach.  It lingered there, hot and heavy against her ragged tank top, and then slipped under the fabric.  Her skin, slick with humidity, was smooth under her own questing touch.

A flutter of fingertips against the bottom swell of her right breast sent her mind racing, fully committed to her fever dream.

_“Nick.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Take it off.”_

_“Not if you’re going to treat my coat like you did my tie.”_

_She’d smile. “Not your coat.”  And she’d sink back into the bed.  “Take it off.  Everything.”  The smile would turn wicked, knowing.  “On me.”_

_A single twitch of her finger would bring him to her.  He’d move slowly, cautiously - reverently, if she could be afforded a bit of ego.  But there’d be a determined set to his mouth, a fluidity in his movements that would make her stomach clench in anticipation.  A metal hand would come to rest on her stomach, his index finger toying with the bottom button on her shirt.  She’d shiver against the metal, pushing her hips up and against him as her breath would hitch._

_The button would pop open.  Then a second.  All the while, his eyes would be on hers._

_“You can do that, and come down here,” she’d say softly, beckoning him with that finger again._

_“Suppose I can,” he’d say just as softly back.  Nick would lean down to her, his mouth so close to hers, those yellow eyes on her face and -_

_The button right over her breasts would open just as their mouths met.  Her senses would fill with the smell and taste of him, tracking every little movement, every noise._

_And she’d come alive._

“Oh, god.”

Nina flicked her thumbnail over her nipple and hissed at the instant flash of pleasure that sparked in her body.  

It had been a long, long time.

Another flick, a twist, and Nina arched in her chair, one foot coming off the floor.  She sank her teeth into her lower lip as she cupped her breast and lifted it, her imagination filling in the spots where a mouth and hands might tease and pinch and lick.

_Goddammit, why aren’t I more flexible?  Or have bigger breasts?  Or both?_

She almost laughed at the idea of licking her own nipples but didn’t - it wasn’t a crazy thought but she was clearly more desperate than she realized.

Especially if she considered the state of her cunt right now.  

_The last button would fly open and she’d be bared to him, breasts proudly peaked with arousal.  He’d stare at her, then her heaving chest, then back up to her face.  “Doll, that’s -”_

_She’d grab his whole hand and guide it gently toward her breasts.  “You won’t hurt me.”  She’d smile again.  “I want you to touch me.  All of me.  It’s - it’s yours, Nick.  All of it.  I just need you to -”_

_“Do this?”  And he would kiss the top of her breast, his mouth cool on her heated skin._

_In an instant, her head would be thrown back into the pillows, her hands gripping his arms, pulling him to her.  Closer, closer, as close as possible.  So she could feel him, so he could feel her._

_So they could meld, human and not human and that singular space between, where you didn’t need bodies, just souls that twine together._

_But for now, she would take twining bodies._

It was the easiest thing to slid her hand inside her shorts, inside her underwear, and run a delicate finger over the sopping skin between her legs. She whined, feeling that coil in her belly tighten even more.  She stroked herself again, not pushing or demanding her body to do anything.  She just wanted to feel.

Nina pinched her nipple again, giving it a little twist on the end, and eased her hand even further into her shorts.  She was _**soaked**_ , her own wetness sticking to her thighs and coating her hand.  She’d wanted to go slow, to ease into this but….

“Oh, Jesus, yes _please_.”  And she pressed a finger inside her cunt.  Her body rocked up in the chair, her toes curling.  “Fuck, oh my god, fuck.”

“Not that I want to interrupt, but uh….need a hand, there?”

Nina’s eyes shot open and met a pair of yellow eyes staring back.


End file.
